


Music and Mirth

by cleromancy



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleromancy/pseuds/cleromancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett, Bethany, Isabela, and Fenris are camping out on the Wounded Coast, and Garrett convinces Bethany to sing for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music and Mirth

After a long day of killing bandits on the Wounded Coast, no one really wants to make the steep trek back to Kirkwall, so Garrett, Bethany, Fenris, and Isabela decide to make camp. It takes a while before they find a clearing that meets Fenris’s approval, but eventually they settle into a niche surrounded by cliffs and trees enough to make sneaking up on their camp all but impossible. Garrett and Fenris get conned into gathering firewood by Isabela, who claims that she and Bethany need to stay in one place to “guard the camp,” and surely two big strong men such as themselves can handle the heavy lifting on their own.

It makes Fenris roll his eyes and Garrett laugh and pretend to preen, flexing exaggeratedly and kissing his biceps until Fenris sighs and says, “Come, Hawke, your peacocking does not make the night grow younger.” His tone is exasperated, but with an undercurrent of amusement that would be lost on just about anyone but present company.

“It’s making _my_ night _warmer,_ ” Isabela says.

Garrett tosses a wink at her over from over his shoulder, and, as he and Fenris leave camp, he makes sure to overemphasize the wiggle of his hips. It has the desired effect, namely Isabela wolf-whistling and Fenris shaking his head as he laughs quietly to himself, so Garrett counts it as a win.

Before long, they’re back with arms piled high with driftwood. Bethany and Isabela have dug a firepit, and Bethany is placing stones artfully around it.

“Hullo, ladies, the big strong men have returned with firewood!”

“I’m starting to think it would’ve been better to just get it ourselves,” Bethany says. “He’s never going to let that go.”

“You mean you were just saying things to get out of helping? I’m hurt,” Garrett says cheerfully.

“You are many things,” says Fenris. “For example: ridiculous.”

“Ouch, that hurt. What is it, deflate-Hawke’s-ego day?”

“That’s _every_ day, sweet thing.”

“I need nicer friends.”

“No, you need to get over here and put those massive arms of yours to use. The fire won’t light itself, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t know about _that_ ,” Bethany says, smiling.

With Bethany’s talents, there’s no need to fuss with flint or matches; she gets the fire crackling merrily with nothing more than a flick of the wrist. The four of them settle in around it, Garrett and Isabela chattering with occasional comments from Bethany and sarcasm from Fenris. When they’ve made themselves comfortable, Isabela produces a flask and takes a swig, then offers it around.

“I don’t even want to know where you were keeping that,” Garrett says, but he takes it anyway, drinking deeply and shuddering as it goes down. 

“So,” Isabela says, “However shall we pass the time? Telling secrets? Braiding each other’s hair?”

“Ghost stories?” Garrett suggests helpfully.

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“I’m sure,” says Fenris.

“Well, if ghost stories are out, then--Bethy, you know, I haven’t heard you sing in an awfully long time.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think...”

“You _sing_?” Isabela says, delighted. “Oh, no, you need to sing for us. Something pretty. Do you know the one about the mermaid who falls in love with a sailor?”

“If you do not wish to sing, you do not have to,” Fenris says.

“Oh, well, _yes, _” Isabela says. “But we’d love it if you did, and I bet you have a _beautiful_ voice. ”__

__“It’s alright, Fenris,” Bethany says, smiling. “Isabela, can you...”_ _

__Bethany reaches out, making a clawlike grasping gesture at Isabela’s flask. Isabela passes it to her, and Bethany takes a deep pull from it and hands it back._ _

__Pushing herself off of the ground, Bethany steps off a little ways from the camp. She’s never been able to sing facing her audience, Garrett remembers, smiling fondly. Never knows where to look, she says, and it distracts her from the song._ _

__Quiet settles over them as they wait, until there’s only the gentle sounds of breathing and the crackling of the fire. As they watch, Bethany starts to sway a little, side to side, as if to the accompaniment of an imaginary lutist._ _

__And then, softly at first but with growing confidence, Bethany begins to sing._ _

__Garrett perks up, recognizing the tune. It’s an old Fereldan folk song, although one with an uncharacteristic lack of hounds. The melody is sweet, if melancholy, suiting the heartfelt longing of the words. Bethany’d picked it up in Redcliffe, and when the Hawkes had to pack up and leave, she would sometimes sing it when they made camp at night._ _

__Her voice is just as pretty as he remembers. Bell-like, almost, or maybe more like a flute, fluttering lightly from note to note. If Varric were here, he’d probably liken it to silver, to starlight, composing some kind of long, meandering metaphor about how Andraste herself would weep to hear Bethany sing._ _

__Garrett glances over at his companions expectantly. Nobody’s weeping, but Isabela’s enchanted, leaning forward to prop up her chin in her hands, her eyes sparkling. Beside her, Fenris is holding himself very still, staring intently at Bethany as she sings, eyes narrowed as if in intense concentration._ _

__Satisfied that they’re appropriately enthralled by his sister’s voice, Garrett grins and settles back on his hands, letting his eyes slip closed. It’s easy to let everything slip away but Bethany’s voice, high and clear as she sings of mist-covered mountains and wistful homesickness. It takes him back to those nights around the campfire, back when their family was whole._ _

__If it weren’t for the smell of salt from the coast, the sand shifting beneath him, he could almost believe the illusion._ _

__When the song is over, the last note seems to linger long after the song ends. The quiet is heavier than it was before, more significant for what has come and gone. No one wants to move, for fear of breaking the spell._ _

__And then Bethany turns around, face bright pink, and hurries back to sit down next to Garrett, and the moment evaporates like it was never there._ _

__“Sweetness, that was incredible,” Isabela says. “You’re like a little songbird. A songbird that can set things on fire. Tell her how lovely her voice is, Fenris.”_ _

__Fenris grunts when Isabela elbows him in the ribs. Rubbing his side, he says gruffly, “She’s right. You have a gift.”_ _

__“I told you,” says Garrett._ _

__Bethany laughs, ducking her face in embarrassment. Garrett beams at her and tucks her hair back behind her ear._ _

__“I hope you don’t mind that I’m stealing you away so you can sing for me every day,” Isabela says. “How’d you like to be a pirate?”_ _

__“Isabela, you can’t just decide to steal Bethany away,” says Garrett sternly, putting his arm around Bethany as if to ward off potential sister-snatchers. “Just imagine what our mother would say.”_ _

__“She’d tell me to do whatever makes me happy, as long I remember to write,” says Bethany, settling in against him._ _

__Garrett laughs. “She would, wouldn’t she?”_ _

__“It’s settled then,” Isabela says. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us this long, though, Hawke.”_ _

__“It’s because I’m horribly jealous,” says Garrett. “Bethany got all the magic _and_ all the talent.” He means for that last bit to sound petulant, but somehow it comes out proud instead. _ _

__“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, sweet thing,” Isabela purrs. “I’m willing to bet you’re pretty... _talented_ , yourself.”_ _

__“I _do_ knit a mean scarf, thanks for reminding me, Isabela.” _ _

__“What can I say? I’m a helper.”_ _

__The four of them go to sleep soon after that; they’re all tired from a long day of hiking and mercenary-ing. Fenris tries to argue that they set up watch shifts, but Bethany lays down a web of repellent glyphs and, when that doesn’t satisfy, Isabela sets up a tripwire. That seems to convince Fenris that there’s no need to stay up hovering all night like a vulture._ _

__The next morning, Garrett wakes up to the sound of Isabela’s cooing._ _

__“Oho, look at you! Isn’t that _precious._ Fenris, come look, they’re like kittens. Littermates.”_ _

__Garrett cracks one eye open, arms tightening instinctively around Bethany, who makes sleepy dissatisfied noises and hides her face further in Garrett’s shoulder._ _

__“Why didn’t _you_ cuddle me last night, Fenris? I’m feeling distinctly un-cuddled.” _ _

__“I’ll cuddle you, ’Bela,” Garrett mumbles, and in the process, gets a mouthful of Bethany’s hair. He splutters, which wakes Bethany up enough to shove at his chest and sit up._ _

__Garrett follows, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then he looks at Bethany, half-asleep and squinting in the early morning sun, hair half flattened and half sticking up off the top of her head like a rat’s nest, and laughs until Bethany threatens to set his beard on fire._ _


End file.
